The Dog and the Songbird
by bookwyrm814
Summary: This is now a work in-progress. My take on how Sansa and Sandor's last meeting should have gone in A Clash of Kings. Both Sansa and Sandor's points of view. Rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**One-shot SanSan**

**So this is my very first fanfiction, first story written since I was in school. Please let me know if there are any mistakes. Hope you all like!**

**Bookwyrm**

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><p>Sansa was afraid, but not because of the large, drunken figure holding his longsword to her throat. She was more afraid of the echoes of war radiating from the Blackwater. Screams of dying men could be heard all through the Red Keep, making the unearthly green hue of the wildfire ever more menacing.<p>

"I'll have that song now, little bird," Sandor Clegane growled. The harshness of his words did not reach his eyes, where fear, anger and something Sansa could not name danced like the flames leaping from the bay outside. Slowly, gently, as to not startle the tortured man, she moved the blade away from her throat. In the same motion her other hand came up to stroke the ruined half of his face, running slender fingers over the scars and bit of exposed cheekbone. Staring the Hound in the eye, Sansa sang the Mother's hymn.

Sandor didn't understand the reaction of the small, fragile girl. Instead of fear, she had responded with compassion. Where he had expected to find revulsion, he had only found empathy. He felt his muscles, pulled taught with anger and fear, relax under her touch, felt his mind calm with her song. _What is this buggering girl doing to me?_

He turned away from the little bird and sat down on the stone steps, placing his head in his hands. "I don't want your buggering pity, girl. This isn't one of your pretty songs," the Hound snarled, badly trying to hide the pain in his voice. _Does she know what she's doing to me? Would she torture me so if she did?_

Sansa came to stand at Sandor's feet, just a stair below him. From here she was just slightly taller than the broken man. "I have no pity for you, Hound, only admiration. I am very grateful to you for saving me during the riot, whether you want my thanks or not. You may not be a true knight, but you did what the Kingsguard and Gold Cloaks did not do. You didn't abandon me to the mercy of the mob. You saved me," she knelt on the step with her last words, looking up into Sandor's eyes, and reached up to tenderly touch his burned cheek, "And for that, I thank you," Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she leaned up and kissed his ruined, twisted cheek.

Sandor could not hide his shock and disbelief. _Did the buggering girl just kiss me where I must pay whores to even look?_ He searched her face, but could not find the disgust he looked for, nor did he find any repulsion. All he saw was sincerity and admiration in the small smile and soft eyes of Sansa Stark. "Fly now, little bird, unless you want me to take more than that little kiss you gave," he snarled. He had hoped to scare her away, but at the same time he knew he hated to see her go. The small drop in her face was enough to drive him mad, it made him want to do anything to put that pretty smile back on her pale face. However, Sansa was Joffrey's betrothed, a High Lord's get, off limits for a hideous dog like him. She deserved some pretty faced knight, someone who wouldn't hurt her.

To his joy and chagrin, she remained, silently looking down on him with her big, sad blue eyes. Gods, how he wanted to take her away from here._ I can,_ he thought, _No one will be watching the buggering gates right now, I could throw her over my shoulder and carry her right out of King's Landing._ He shook the thought from his head. He'd get her killed that way. Even so, the words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. "Come with me, little bird, I could keep you safe. I could take you home," The shock written plainly on her face was enough to discourage him. He quickly stood and stumbled down the stairs, leaving the stunned Sansa chirping, "Wait! Sandor!" at his back. He tried to memorise her face, the shade of auburn her hair was, the sound of her saying his name for the first and last time. He knew he would never see his little bird again. She would never know how her incessant chirping had tamed the heart of the wild Hound.

~END~

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><p><em>Or is it...<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is chapter 2. I hope it's alright, I'm really bad at judging my own work. Tell me what you think, any ideas you might have or corrections. Opinions welcome.**

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><p>Sansa knew she couldn't let him go without her. She had just realized her feelings for him. Every night since the riots she had seen him in her dreams, rescuing her from the grabbing hands and grotesque faces. Making her decision, she gathered her skirts in her hands and ran down the steps as fast as her dainty feet would carry her. She slowed, panting, when she saw him waiting for her at her chamber door. He looked at her as if he couldn't believe she was there, that she had come after him.<br>"Sandor," she gasped, out of breath, "Wait, I.. I want..." she breathed deeply, "I want to go with you. Take me home, Sandor."

He was stunned. _Is this real? Can she really mean..? _He relished the sound of his name on her lips for a moment, admiring the bow of her top lip.  
>A scream echoed through the Keep from the war below, and reality hit him like a shot in the chest.<p>

"Let's get the hell out of here, then, little bird." Sandor grabbed Sansa by the hand, allowing himself no more than a moment to appreciate the slight, soft hand engulfed in his large calloused one, and pulled her down the steps. He didn't stop until they reached the stables, where he grabbed Stranger's reigns and lifted Sansa quickly up into the saddle. He climbed up behind her and spurred Stranger to a full gallop towards the mud-gate.

The rush of her own blood pounding in her ears seemed to match up with the black warhorse's hooves hitting the packed dirt as they made their way to the gate. She had her head ducked down, trying to hide in his cloak.

"Hold on, little bird." She heard him say, and laid down as close to the horse's neck as she could as Sandor cut down anyone who came in their way. She heard two men fall from screaming horses and another scream so loud and shrill it hurt her ears before they passed the gate. They didn't stop riding until dawn broke over the horizon, nesting down well off the path between a ring of tall sentinel trees beside a small stream.

He still couldn't believe what had happened last night. _What would a little bird want with a deformed dog?_

"Be a good bird and gather some sticks for a fire," he told her. She nodded and began examining the ground, picking up good sized twigs and making a pile. He watched her bend to pick up a few smaller twigs, rise, and turn towards him. He pretended to tend to Stranger, hoping she hadn't noticed his staring.

"Why did you come for me? Why did you risk your life... Just to bring me home?" Her eyes widened and her hand fluttered to her throat, "Not that I don't appreciate... Thank you, Sandor. For saving me, again." she quickly turned back to her work, avoiding his bewildered gaze. _Flutter, little bird. Stretch your wings, I've stolen you from your gilded cage. _

"Would you have preferred I left you in the Lion's den? I'm sure that fool Dontos would have surely done as I had." Her head snapped around to gape at him, her jaw dropping before her courtesies kicked it, snapping it shut.

"How did you-"

"The little brat had me watch you far more than you knew," he sighed. "Don't worry, your little godswood meetings I kept to myself. Joff surely would have had his head, and yours." he added, gathering up brush and fallen leaves into a pile. He noticed her disbelieving stare and turned to her, Clegane grey meeting Tully blue, "A dog will die for you, but never lie to you, little bird. You'd do well to remember that. I hate liars, I wouldn't lie to you." He turned back to the pile of debris, throwing Stranger's saddle blanket over it followed by his bedroll, and the one he had taken for Sansa. His original plan had been to steal her away, whether she wanted to go with him or not, and ransom her off to her kingly brother. He knew the whole plan had been an excuse to see her before he left. He hadn't expected, however, that she would willingly go with him, even chasing after him.

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><p><strong>So there it is. Where will Sandor and Sansa go? Will Sandor ever gain the courage to admit his true feelings? Will Sansa sing him the song he so desperately wants to hear?<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

Sansa was confused._ Why did he save me? Why didn't he tell his master about my drunken Florian?_ She puzzled away as she gathered up a large bundle of sticks, twigs and branches.

"Is this enough, m- Sandor?" _I almost called him my lord, he would not have liked that._ He turned to look at her, and raised his eyebrows. The burned side of his face began to twitch slightly, pulling it into half a smirk.

"Aye, little bird, that's plenty. Now come get some rest, long ride ahead of us." He motioned to the bedrolls, over which he had built a small lean-to out of larger branches wove together. Impressed, Sansa raised her eyebrows at him and gave a small smile. She crawled into the roll on the left, suprised at how comfortable it was and how much her body really ached. They had rode hard all night, her back pressed to Sandor's chest. She flushed remembering it. _Should I tell him how I feel?_

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><p>He shivered, feeling her eyes on his back as he built a small fire. His years on the battlefield and protecting the brat King had sharpened his senses well enough to feel the gaze of the small girl behind him. <em>Seven hells, girl, go to sleep!<em> He watched the flame catch and begin to burn strongly. Then he went to the small stream and filled an empty skin. He was glad Sansa had not noticed his small wounds from their escape. He sat down across the fire from her, noticing she had fallen asleep already. Sleep well, pretty bird. He put some wine in the dome of his helmet and placed it over the fire to boil. After taking a swig, he pulled a rag out of his pocket and a hunting knife out of the other, and began slicing it into strips, throwing them in the helmet one by one. He rolled up his pantleg to see the two long, shallow slashes across his shin. The guard who had seen Sansa's hair peek out of his cape, the last one at the gate, had lunged at his horse. Stranger, however, had jumped away quickly, avoiding all injury and causing these two slits carved into the Hound's leg. Quickly washing it with the water he had collected, he began pulling a strip of cloth out of the helmet of now boiling wine with his dagger. Letting it cool slightly, he wrung it out and wrapped it around his leg. He did it again and again until his leg was wrapped from knee to ankle. _Can't protect my little bird with an infected leg, now, can I?_ He smirked to himself as he went and crawled into his bedroll to go to sleep.

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><p>Sansa awoke to Sandor cleaning and skinning a rather plump looking rabbit. Sitting up and stretching, she watched him spit it and put it over the fire to cook.<p>

"Have you slept, Sandor?" She asked him, making him start and turn quickly.

"Look who's finally awake. I slept, yes. It was dawn when we arrived, it's nearly dusk now." He replied. _Have I really slept that long?_ She crawled out of the bedroll and sat across the fire from him.

"Where will we go now? To Winterfell?" She asked him suddenly.

"Little bird, I promise I will take you home," he responded, "but by now, Cersei and that buggering bastard Joffrey will know you are gone by now. They will expect you to go there, so that is where they will look. No, little bird," he sighed and thought for a moment. "We need to throw them off our trail. We will go to the Free Cities, whichever one you would prefer." He said finally. The Free Cities. _Which one would I prefer?_ She thought a moment, making perfect sense of Sandor's plan. They would certainly be caught on the way north, because that is simply where the Lannisters will look first.

"Pentos, maybe, or Bravos. What do you think?"

"I think, now that you mention it, that Pentos would be perfect. I know just the person to help us." He replied, smiling._ I wonder who he means... Oh well. I can't back out now, can I?_ She smiled and took the rabbit Sandor was passing her, pondering life in Pentos with him.

"We will need a story. I need a new name, I can't just tell people my name is Sansa Stark!" she realized.

"No, little bird, you are right. We'd be dead before the moon turns telling people who you really are. Do you know what you want to call yourself?"

"No... How about Catelyn?" she smiled at the thought of calling herself by her mother's name.

"Of course not, don't be buggering foolish girl! A maid with Tully eyes and hair, named Catelyn? Any bludgeoning idiot would figure that out."

"Yes, I suppose you are right..." she looked around, spying a red-bellied robin pecking at the ground on the other side of the stream. "Little bird..." she murmured, "What about Robyn? I don't believe there has ever been a Robyn Stark." Sandor looked at her, amusement and that thing she couldn't identify. _Perhaps it is simply nothing. _

"Robyn it is then. Robyn Waters?"

"Robyn Waters. That is who I am, then." Sansa said with such conviction and determination that Sandor couldn't help but laugh.


End file.
